


Remember When

by wanderingsmith



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-14
Updated: 2014-09-14
Packaged: 2018-02-17 07:52:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2302175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wanderingsmith/pseuds/wanderingsmith
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thorin woke with the fading echo of strange words in his ears, and the image of a hobbit throwing himself at an orc at the forefront of his mind.  </p><p>Only the habits of a lifetime kept the blood-curdling terror from making him howl some variation of 'nononononono danger get away!' and instead had him scrambling up, roaring fury to shield the grief.  The half-familiar group of dwarrows, as well as a Man of all things, crowding around him and not getting out of his way had him swinging at them without hesitation; did they not understand he needed to get to his mate??</p>
            </blockquote>





	Remember When

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I ain't got no money, and nobody'd be daft enough to pay me for this. As it is thought, so let it be said; you make the toys, I play with 'em.
> 
> Fíli is 82 at the time of the quest.

Thorin woke with the fading echo of strange words in his ears, and the image of a hobbit throwing himself at an orc at the forefront of his mind. 

Only the habits of a lifetime kept the blood-curdling terror from making him howl some variation of 'nononononono danger get away!' and instead had him scrambling up, roaring fury to shield the grief. The half-familiar group of dwarrows, as well as a Man of all things, crowding around him and not getting out of his way had him swinging at them without hesitation; did they not understand he needed to get to his mate??

"Do not fight him! I could only heal him enough to survive, you will re-injure him!"

Thorin ignored the Man's nonsense and finally got to his feet. Seeing the hobbit standing near with a worried frown, seemingly unharmed, his terror dissipated and he limped forward, smiling with breathless relief, "Mahal praised!" Still breathing hard from the panic of his waking, he pulled the unresisting smaller creature to him in a hard hug, though his voice could not be anything but soft, "Ghivashel! Are you well? Never do that again!" 

He *was* very faintly aware that the earlier crowd was still there, silent. Could almost feel their shock on the wind whipping at him in bursts. But at that moment, the remnants of that panic, as well as pain and confusion that were not yet registering as anything but battle-noise, had his focus strictly on his mate. Finally, he reluctantly pulled back from the tight hold to cup that soft, beardless face and examine the features for hurt before leaning their foreheads together in relief, closing his eyes to the sight of the hobbit's unnervingly wide eyes, "You cannot throw yourself into danger, sanâzyung, I need you safe." He felt a burst of warm breath on his lips and tilted his head, calming even more at the accepting tenderness of their noses brushing.

"Thorin??"

At Dwalin's familiarly sharp voice breaking the silence, Thorin, keeping one arm around the hobbit, turned to him. 

Or tried to. Instead, lifting his left arm from his mate sent stabbing pain down his side and he flinched with a curse. 

Of course, that sent everyone rushing toward him, but *now* Thorin started to frown. Looking first at his disgusting attire and mysteriously bloodied state, then at the valleys surrounding their high perch... then actually paying attention to the crowd. The frown turned to a glare as confusion bred fear into anger. Then he looked at his mate and his eyes slowly widened with knee-weakening shock. "What.. where.. how.." 

Thorin stared at the halfling, shock reverberating through him with the certain knowledge that something was very wrong.

Because he *knew*, was categorically *certain*, that he loved the golden-haired creature... 

But he **had no idea who he was**!!! 

That he also had no idea what he was doing in the outlying hills of the Misty Mountains with kin and some unknown dwarrows that he actually seemed to feel trust for, was entirely secondary. 

With a hard swallow, ignoring the dwarrows nattering at him, he kept his eyes glued to the worried brown ones of the hobbit, speaking in as controlled a tone as he could manage, "Who are you?" -'other than my mate', a shamefully hysterical voice added at the back of his mind.

The silence that rippled out from those damning words was at least restful to his aching head. And why he was so badly injured was another secondary concern.

Before the hobbit could answer, he heard Balin hiss, off to the side, sounding far more panicked than his old adviser usually allowed himself to be, "Gandalf??"

"Umm. I did as much as I could to set all physical injuries on the path to healing. His head very likely *did* hit that rock quite hard, it is not rare for such injuries to result in temporary memory loss. It will likely pass as the injury that caused it heals fully."

"But if he doesn't remember our burglar, why was he hugging him?"

"Not to mention calling him ghivashel?"

At Nori's leering add-on to Kíli question, Thorin turned to his distant cousin with a snarl, "Why would I *not* call him so?" The troublemaking thief knew a dwarf would no more forget his love for his One than he could fail to recognize them! How *dare* he-

The return of the resounding silence and disbelieving stares from everyone unnerved him away from his fury that any would challenge his choice of mate, but before he could demand answers, the hobbit finally spoke, "What, exactly, does 'givshel' mean?"

Much preferring the peace he felt looking at his soft-speaking mate, Thorin turned back to him, shifting their positions so that he could lift his less painful arm from around the creature when next he had to turn to their confounding companions. Meeting the confused, and oddly *wary* eyes -that he surely should recognize!-, he answered the question without hesitation; secrets were well and fine, but he recognized the name Gandalf enough to know the Man was a wizard and no doubt already knew at least *of* Khuzdul, and Thorin's mate was by that fact one of the Khazâd.

"Ghi-va-shel. Treasure of treasures." The way utter shock widened the hobbit's eyes, to the point that the creature stepped back from Thorin, made him frown, inadmissible fear niggling at him, "Ghivashel, what is wrong?" He had not recoiled when he heard Thorin did not recall him, why would he *now*?

"I- You-... you-" Thorin tried to keep his lips from twitching at the fish imitation. Though he suspected he didn't keep his expression clear enough of the amusement, considering the way his mate straightened with a sudden glare. But that only made Thorin release the grin; *his* mate. Pride echoed in him for the temper to match his own. "Why would you call me that??"

Closing the distance between them, Thorin frowned, reminded of the worrisome confusion of the moment, "Why would I *not* call you that?" He frowned harder, "What.. did I call you?" Though he had not thought of the chance of finding the one who could wake him in more decades than he wished to remember, still, ghivashel was the endearment that felt most natural to him, even now; surely he would have used it with this so-long-awaited mate!

Before the hobbit could do more than sputter, it was one of the unknown dwarrows that replied with what sounded like choked humour, "Well, there was 'grocer'."

"Bofur! Now is not the time." Gandalf's admonishment came too late as the king spun, flinching at the foolish move, but still ending with his death glare on the strange dwarf. Trust of unknown source would not keep the king from repaying such an insult to his mate!

Before Thorin's fury could erupt, Balin stepped in front of him with a worried look, "Thorin, we- who do you think Master Baggins is?"

Baggins. Finally he at least had a name! Though Thorin was disappointed that hearing it did not open his memory. "He is my One. The One that has Woken my adult body and love." Seeing the stunned amazement spread on his old friend's face was warning enough, but hearing a choked gasp sent Thorin back around to his mate. Stepping close, and this time not stopping until he had his arms wrapped around Baggins, worried at the suddenly flushed, and as stunned as Balin's, features. "Baggins? Are you well?"

"Wizard?!"

"Do not be foolish, I did not *do* this, Dwalin! I am not some foul sorcerer!"

"Then what- how??!"

Thorin spared only half a second to glare at his snarling cousin, returning his gaze to more important features that were still staring at him in mute shock, even as he snarled behind his shoulder at the bald warrior, "How *what*, Dwalin?"

"..Why would you suddenly love our burglar?"

Suddenly?? Would the strangeness never cease? He was becoming annoyingly fatigued with the repeated shocks, which was quite an unpleasant statement of his physical state. For a moment he could not help leaning some of his weight on his mate and letting his features sag with his confusion. "Did I- did we not tell them, Baggins?" -only why was the hobbit looking so surprised as well?

The surprise turned to worry in the blink of two brown eyes and the shifting of bare feet to a more solid stance to support the dwarf. "My name is Bilbo Baggins." Taking an obviously steadying breath, the hobbit reached up with a very hesitant hand that Thorin met halfway with his cheek in encouragement, finally reassured to have his mate responding. Those brown eyes met his with a confusing bravery underlying the worry. "You contracted me as a burglar to help you reclaim your home from the dragon. We all just now escaped from a goblin trap in the Misty Mountains, only to be cornered by orcs riding wargs, from whom we were rescued and brought here by giant eagles. ..You have never, in the weeks we have travelled together, spoken to me of affection, or in any way given any indications of such toward me."

The shock held Thorin frozen, staring for long moments, hardly feeling that soft hand slide to his nape and tug him to rest his forehead on his mate's.

But when he did begin to think again, the first thought was still utter certainty at his feelings for this soft hobbit with warm, guileless eyes. He sighed, shoulders hunching under an unpleasant mix of fear and shame, whispering for Bilbo alone, "Then I apologize and beg forgiveness. That was not honourable behaviour. I should have let you know how I felt. It is the dwa-"

"By my beard! Thorin, look!!"

Tempted to growl, more tempted to ignore the cry in favour of resting with his ma- No, he had no right to think of him as such. Resting with his *One*. Thorin saw a hint of delighted teasing appear on his Bilbo's expressive features, and, with a sigh that his father would have been very disappointed in him for letting free, made himself straighten to follow his old healer's arm. 

And caught his breath at the sight; it had been too many decades since he'd travelled close enough to even hope to see the mountain. Thorin smiled, joy rising in him, "Our home." Wanting to be as close as possible, he started to walk to the edge of the spit of rock, only to stop and look back when Bilbo did not follow him. 

And then he turned his head slowly back to the mountain, his smile dying. 

Hobbits lived in the Shire. 

Suddenly the mountain was a bittersweet sight, an ache cramping through his chest. 

So. 

..There was always a chance he could convince the hobbit to come live with them, assuming they survived and reclaimed the mountain. 

But he knew the other races were not happy living under stone. 

"Fíli?"

"Uncle?"

He turned from the mountain and looked at the lad -he'd not yet turned 80! Far too young to be on any quest, to say nothing of Kíli!!- tearing his wide, eager eyes away from the horizon, "Had I, by chance, been telling you more of ruling Erebor, as we travelled?" His nephew's surprised jerk was answer enough. He might not have told anyone, including his One, but he believed he *had* been aware of who Bilbo was, and had started to make plans. Else he should not have been distracting Fíli with such instructions before they even regained the mountain.

\--

Gandalf had browbeat everyone off the chilly peak so that they could make a more secure camp before any further revelations could come to light. Then, once into some sheltering trees and on steady enough ground, he and Óin had impressed on everyone that telling Thorin of his missing past risked damaging his own memories of those events. 

Which led, once camp was set, to a conversation filled with silences where Balin could not tell him even the simplest detail of the quest. Giving up, Thorin went to sit besides Bilbo on his log by the fire, automatically seeking peace for his aching head and heart. But then he hesitated, the expression he'd just left on his old adviser's face coming back to him as Bilbo looked up with surprise that made him flinch inside. His One should expect him to seek him out; what had he been thinking to not.. not show him... *affection*... "If I... say or do anything to make you uncomfortable... since I did not speak before.."

Bilbo waved Thorin down before seeming to once again focus on trying to mend his waistcoat, his tone sounding a little too carefully casual for Thorin's heart. "This must be confusing for you."

Staring for a moment at the fire-shadows playing over the smooth planes of the hobbit's features, he tried to deliberately remember another such sight. But all that came was the undeniable physical draw, not felt since he'd reached stress-hastened adulthood at the young age of 65, that named the other his One. Bilbo's name, race and current appearance were all he knew of him. That his soul already loved him was all that made this anything but a normal first meeting. 

How could you love someone you did not know? How could their survival be critical to your sanity? "Confusing. Yes."

Seeing the hobbit's activity pulled him out of his self-pitying woolgathering and Thorin drew the wondrous sword he had discovered on his back as he stumbled down the Carrock, as Gandalf had named the spit of rock he had woken on. 

No one, of course, would tell him where it came from or what had happened to his own weapons, but a warrior took care of his tools. He found his sharpening stone and oil in the same place he had kept them during his previous years of travel, and set to cleaning the already clean blade.

"Why did you attack the others when you woke?"

His hand paused for a moment at the question, but then a pleased, relaxed smile curled his lips to know that the one he would have for a mate thought of him, even as he worked. "Because the first.. memory I had," he turned to look at Bilbo and waited for him to meet his eyes, "Was watching, in terror, as you leapt on an orc."

Bilbo grunted, nodding with what appeared to be understanding; though Thorin noticed that no apology was forthcoming for the rash act. Instead, curiosity stared back at him thoughtfully, "Earlier, when you ... 'declared' me your One... it sounded as though a dwarf would somehow recognize.. their One."

"Yes. I have always been told I would feel the Draw, feel arousal as a dwarfling feels before his body matures and begins waiting for its One, from our first meeting," Thorin grimaced, impatient with his mind's betrayal, "Ironically enough, that is still all I can say of it. Why?"

The hobbit hesitated, as though he were debating answering, and Thorin braced himself for another silence-filled conversation. But then Bilbo's chin rose with a stubborn frown, ".. You.. had an odd look on your face, for a few moments, when we first met."

With little hope, Thorin waited for the memory to appear. Finally giving it up, he refocused on his One's pensive features and thought through what the statement implied, with what he *had* been told; his jaw clenched, "..And obviously I did not behave.. as a suitor, after that."

"I can't answer that, Thorin," Bilbo grimaced, his nose twitching so adorably that Thorin felt his eyes widen with helpless pleasure, "I shouldn't have said what I already did."

Thorin's lips twisted with a bitterness he had barely felt since waking, "You do not need to say more. I do not.. I do not understand WHY-"

Frowning in sad concern, Bilbo set aside his abandoned mending, hesitating a moment, then slowly reached a hand toward Thorin, looking as though some great courage was being called upon as he laid it on the dwarf's knee, "Well, I *will* say you were not impressed with me."

"Impressed??" he looked at the hobbit with astonishment, even as his hand grasped the one on his knee greedily, a burst of loving joy flowing through him, "Bilbo, you are my ONE. 'Impressed'.." he shook his head, "You were MADE for me, half of my SOUL." he laughed painfully, "You have nothing to prove to me."

Bilbo's silently wide eyes would have worried him were it not for the amazed pleasure he could see just peeking through before Bilbo turned to look into the fire. Whatever he had done ..*to* the hobbit, perhaps... Was it possible he still had a chance? Did he dare, without knowing what memories the hobbit saw when he looked at him?

He knew he was allowing his body to twitch visibly, but it was instinctive to trust his One with his true self rather than hide behind the demeanour that had been ingrained in him. To offer all that he was.. in desperate hope of being accepted; for what wretched mess had a dwarf made of himself if the one made for him found him lacking? What wretched life would be left for him to live in that knowledge?

Already he could not imagine even being separated from Bilbo, not even for Erebor. Therefor if he returned to the Shire, Thorin would follow, even if it was to live out his life as no more than a neighbour. He had lived so many years alone, now, that he could not fathom deliberately choosing more such. 

Not unless his One demanded it.

But.. If he were not too late... He glanced at the hobbit, catching him doing the same and making himself speak, "Would you.." he swallowed some mix of melancholy, grief and fear, "Would you allow me to court you? After my obvious failure to-"

"Yes!"

Thorin's mouth hung open for a moment before a smile broke free at the almost fierce response.

"Although.." Thorin froze before Bilbo waved a hand at him, "Nono, I'm not objecting to your courting. I just.. thought of some of the odd things I've seen your countrymen do.. and wonder what exactly dwarven courtship entails."

Relief made him more enthusiastic in his response than he had felt in many years. He had a chance! Whether they stayed in the Lonely Mountain or returned to the Shire, he would have his mate! His One. *If* he could win him. "Gift giving, mostly, I suppose. Proving one's worth." Gifts would be difficult while they travelled.. But he was a mighty warrior. A good leader for his people. He could prove his worth!

Bilbo gave him a steady stare that made the dwarf blink in confusion, snapped out of his embarrassingly exuberant thoughts. "I have no interest in gold and gems, Thorin. And less in watching you hurt yourself to *prove* anything to me."

Oh. Thorin resisted tugging at his braids as he had done as a dwarfling, frowning, ".. That does.. rather limit the traditional gestures." His One's clear laughter sounding out made his eyes widen and a smile ease his tension. Happiness suited the hobbit. "Well.. what does hobbit courtship entail, then?"

Bilbo's smile widened at the question, watching Thorin with growing fondness that was slowly losing its painful-to-see disbelieving edge. "Food, flowers. Showing off their gardens; or their ideas for one, in the case of tweens. I suppose they must show off the results of their trade, those as have them," a surprisingly warm glance slid to the strange sword Thorin had forgotten on his lap. "One of my cousins taught the fellow she was courting how to make a chest of drawers. Took them most of a year to work through all the details," laughing brown eyes met Thorin's, "And all the fights! Right stubborn, those two are."

Thorin was still a moment, but finally had to grimace, "..Cooking would not endear me to you. And I know nothing of gardens." Bilbo's barely-choked snicker was both embarrassing and a pleasure; to know he gave his One joy, even at his own expense. Twinges to his princely pride were better than his One keeping his distance from him.

Thinking of the hobbit's words and slowly remembering the orc, and the unschooled way the hobbit had been holding his blade in Thorin's only surviving memory, the dwarf lifted his own blade up slightly and met the gaze of his One. "Would you allow me to teach you something of swordplay? It would not be harming myself..." he tried to bury the wince at the thought of the discomfort the *hobbit* would feel, just as every new student did. But he would then be able to defend himself. And Thorin could prove his skill at arms and at teaching. And spend time with his One without the silences of their missing past between them.

Again that warm glance at the exquisite blade that played mighty temptation with his exhibitionist instincts. Balin would glare, Dwalin would wax sardonic, and his injured body would scream bloody murder at him... But still he was tempted to stand and discover just how beautiful it would feel to dance with such a weapon.

And the suddenly eager smile and bright eyes of his One were no discouragement. "You... you are-" Thorin's breath stopped at the momentary sight of burning admiration. That was for *him*! Bilbo smiled sheepishly; perhaps Thorin's pleasure had been too obvious. "Well. You are a.. an inspiring sight with that sword. Even for a hobbit." *Inspiring*! "I would.. be.. honoured. To.. well," Thorin tried very hard to keep the urge to do.. very *intimate* things to that wriggling nose, from showing on his features, lest it stop the intensely attractive twitch. "To attempt to learn to use my.. letter-opener. At your.. side."

Thorin reached over to lay a hand over Bilbo's as he uncomfortably fumbled at the hilt of his sword. When the hobbit's embarrassed eyes met his, Thorin shook his head, "You are my One, Bilbo Baggins. I would teach you if you were a one-handed clubfoot; and be glad for the honour you offered me. As it stands, you and your letter-opener saved my life. You have no need to be bashful. I can share positions and movements that might be useful, but you've already shown the world you have a warrior's heart; you need never think of me as having shown-" One hundred and thirty years since his body had responded to another; little wonder that his One's fingertips on his lips would make him gasp and lose his train of thought.

"But you did." The fingers dropped away with a shy smile on beardless features, "I would never have run out my door.." Thorin grimaced at the sudden silence, but then stubbornness that was almost dwarven in its fierceness replaced it, "No. I never told you this and you were not there to have a memory of it. I ran out my door after an adventure because of you. Your.. voice. Your story. You say you remember me jumping on that orc... I most certainly would never have done *that* without.. without your presence.. to inspire me."

Thorin shook his head, "I would I never again inspire you in such a way."

"Agreed. *I* would you never put yourself in such danger again!"

Thorin grimaced, unable to make such a promise, even for his One. He almost recoiled at the sudden fierce scowl directed at him for his silence; though he would take it, and gladly, over Bilbo's earlier hesitations. He remembered his fierce pride shortly after he'd woken, when he'd thought the hobbit his won mate and had so enjoyed his glares. He wished-

 

Bilbo's annoyance faded at the sight of the wistful sadness on Thorin's battered features. 

It was so very strange to feel himself welcome to speak his mind to the dwarf. Disconcerting to try to convince himself that he need not keep his admiration to himself, nor curb his opinions. 

And... and he need not keep quietly distant when Thorin so obviously needed succor.

Jaw set in determination, Bilbo shifted a knee up on the log and leaned over, a hand going to Thorin's shoulder, the other into his tangled mane to gently encourage him to stay still. And he touched his lips to the dwarf's.

A slow innocent press, finally knowing the faint scratch of that beard on his tender cheeks. Pulling back slightly, he waited, but Thorin did not move, only breathed quicker; and parted his lips faintly, eyes almost closed but staring at him. And Bilbo leaned forward again, breathing quickly himself, to tilt his head and press a kiss to the upper lip, before daringly wrapping his lips around the soft bottom and giving it a suck.

Was Bilbo Baggins really kissing a dwarven king so brazenly in spite of the laughs and moans of dwarrows nearby, a faintly hysterical voice in his mind asked. Yes, he is. And he will continue to do so! 

\---

And indeed, weeks later, when the first snowstorm raged around Erebor's walls, blanketing the remaining orc bodies from a great battle -quite a few of which had been felled by a hobbit's half-trained Sting-, there was a hobbit by the name of Bilbo Baggins, sporting a braid with a dwarven bead, kissing a king laying on a wide, soft bed as he recovered from numerous injuries.

**Author's Note:**

> sanâzyung - perfect/true love


End file.
